


The Dying of the Light

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: + lil bit of hurt/comfort, Angst, Gen, Mystery Rock AU, Post s2 finale, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can I ask your name, ma’am?”</p><p>“Simmons. Doctor Jemma Simmons.”</p><p>“Of course.” He stands up and heads toward another door, beckoning her to follow. “Come with me. The Director’s been waiting to see you for a long time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dying of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during the S2 hiatus, not as a prediction, just inspired by the opportunities of the Mysterious Rock of Doom. What if the Rock kept Jemma, and when it let her go, the world was no longer as she knew it?

It throws her against the floor, knocks the wind out of her. Chokes her scream. It’s cold and wet against her skin and it sucks her in like the water did. She can’t breathe or see or move and it’s everywhere – it’s everywhere – She tries to stick her head above it and it’s too much like that day. She can’t breathe, but she can feel the oxygen in her throat, telling her to hold on. Just hold on.

It feels like forever.

But suddenly, there’s a surface.

Gasping for breath, she tumbles out onto the floor.

The rock – or whatever it is – relinquishes her limbs and she shivers, curling up as she pulls herself into a sitting position, and looks around. She can’t quite put her finger on what is different. Perhaps the way her stomach remembers its nausea is keeping her from seeing things straight, but she can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

She stands up. Looks back at the rock. It’s as silently imposing as ever, biding its time. She’s a little afraid to turn her back on it, but it’s worth it to get out of the room.

The door beeps, and slides aside for her.

Yes, something is definitely off.

“Fitz?” His name quivers from her lips into empty space. She follows it into a dark hallway, and frowns. She follows the hallway to another room, possessing a single desk, with a plainness that suggests it is trying to be hospitable. Some kind of reception area, perhaps? Not a popular one. But they weren’t at the Playground. They must have moved the box.

A young woman moves away from the desk, and hesitantly, Simmons steps up.

“Excuse me,” she says, though he’s already looking at her. “This might sound a little strange, but…could you please tell me where I am?”

“The north wing of the Vaults at Sci-Tech, ma’am.” He seems unfazed. He glances at the doorway she’d come out of, and smiles. “Can I ask your name, ma’am?”

“Simmons. Doctor Jemma Simmons.”

“Of course.” He stands up and heads toward another door, beckoning her to follow. “Come with me. The Director’s been waiting to see you for a long time.”

“Coulson?” She follows him into an elevator, and finds her heart starting to thrum in her throat. They’re not at the Playground. She’s been gone a long time. How long?

“No, ma’am.” They step out of the lift. “If you’ll just wait here, the Director won’t be a moment.”

Simmons isn’t sure she could have followed if she’d tried. Her knees shake. Her eyes are drawn to the walls, stretching high above them, dotted with rows of eagles the size of her hand-span, bearing names. She follows them around like trail of breadcrumbs.

_Agent V. Hand_

_Agent I. Hartley_

_Agent A. Triplett_

_Agent K. Palamas_

And then one, glanced out of the corner of her eye, makes her catch her breath.

_Director P. Coulson_

She edges towards it, heart racing. She’s come halfway around the room by now. She’s almost reached the most recent names. And Coulson’s is not the last one there she knows.

_Agent A. Weaver_

Simmons takes a deep breath.

_Agent M. May_

She lets it out, and it fills with tears.

_Agent L. Hunter_

A smile touches her lips. So he did commit after all.

And then she sees it.

Like when your eyes skip to the bottom of a page she sees it, and never has she wished harder in her life to unsee something.

It’s just one letter. Not even. Just the corner of a letter.

But she can’t shake it.

And suddenly she forgets about the rock and screaming and the lift and the receptionist guy – was it one of the Koenigs? She hadn’t been paying attention. Suddenly all that matters is _Dinner. You and me. Somewhere nice?_ Suddenly it feels like she just saw him five minutes ago. His sparkling eyes are still looking into hers and away again. They had a date.

She reaches out and runs her fingers along it.

_Agent L. Fitz._

“How long..?”

She can’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t know how it ends – how long has she been gone, or how long has he? The tears start slipping down her cheeks.

Heels clip on the marble floor and she hastily wipes her face and turns.

“Skye.”

She looks almost the same. A few years older, a little taller. Perhaps a little bulkier, stronger, but maybe that’s just the way she carries herself.

“Hey Jemma.” Skye smiles gently. “Got some catching up to do?”

“You look just like…“

“Yeah, Mum’s genes I guess.”

“No, I was going to say, you look just like…May.” She hears how foolish it sounds as it comes out of her mouth, and glances back at the wall, where May’s name rests. She still can’t quite believe- “How long have I been-?”

“A century. Almost to the day.” Skye steps up beside her. Her eyes run across the names they know, and she lingers on Fitz’ too. Then she sighs and says, “Follow me.”

They go down another short corridor, and into Skye’s office. It’s big. Comfortable. Well-lit. Lined with books and memorabilia in a Coulson-esque style of interior design.

There’s a lot of space between them.

There’s so much to say.

“He lived long, Jemma,” Skye finally tells her. “He retired from field work about ten years after you disappeared. He came back here. Helped Weaver rebuild the school. He was a really good teacher.”

Simmons presses her eyes closed. She just saw him. They had a date. What if they’d stuck with it – got a house? got married? had kids? What if they’d come back here together? Rebuilt the school together?

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Jemma asks. “Why now?”

“I don’t know,” Skye replies. And finally, she hugs her. “But I’m glad you’re here.”


End file.
